Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Max questioned softly, knowing without a doubt that a female, blood-relative of the Rule brothers could be the means for the perfect retaliation.
“Yes, sir—it is. I apologize for the mistake, sir.”
Max narrowed his eyes and took three deep breaths before steepling his fingers and leaning into his desk. “All right. I’m so pleased we’re on the same page.” He gritted his teeth and tried to calm down. “Let’s move on.”
“Okay,” the younger man exhaled slowly in obvious relief.
Max glanced at the clock on the wall, finally feeling more in control. “I want all the information you can find on the sister and I want it in the next hour.”
Diaz got to his feet and began edging toward the door. “Yes, sir.”
“Just a minute,” Max called out. The younger man halted in mid-step just as he was about to reach the doorknob. “Do you know her age?”
“She’s twenty-five, sir.”
Max held his breath and stalled only a moment before asking his next question. “Is she married?”
The other man shook his head. “She’s single and—”
“And, what?” Max prompted.
As if reading his mind, the younger man breathed out, “And heterosexual, sir.”
Max let out a breath, leaned back in his seat and rapped his fingers on his desk before saying, “Just so we understand each other—you’re going to watch her every movement from this moment on. I want to know every single thing about her—find her social media accounts and figure out a way that I can see them—set up a dummy account for me. I want to know every thought in her head—her favorite color, her favorite foods—her goddamn hopes and dreams. Got me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For now, I want a dossier on her by the end of the day. Do. Not. Fuck. Up. Again.”
The other man turned away and answered, “No, sir. I’m on it now, sir.”
****
Chapter One
Las Vegas—Two months later
Did the dude actually think she didn’t know he was watching her? Or maybe he just didn’t care? Erin blew out a breath and refused to glance in the direction of the bar again. In an effort to conceal any agitation that her body language might be revealing, she picked up her glass—a Maker’s and Diet Coke—and brought the straw to her lips.
Although she tried to keep her mind off the guy, it was impossible. The man in the mirror looked to be several years older than she was—and there was no way she could miss his swarthy good looks. In fact, he was infinitely good-looking, and his contemplative eyes held a sharp intelligence that made her question why he was watching her so openly. And he was watching her—watching her as if he wanted to strip the clothes from her body and check out every inch of her, before sinking his teeth into her and gobbling her up whole.
And damn, she couldn’t really say she felt any differently, even though she’d tried to shoot him down with a bland look in return—asshole shouldn’t act so damn cocksure! Her ploy hadn’t worked though, not in the slightest. He’d ignored her subtle hint and continued to watch her with a look that screamed aggression—a look that was putting her back up and taxing her patience. Why in the hell did he have to have that air of arrogance? Physically, he looked perfect. But his attitude . . . shit. Maybe she should feel complimented instead of slightly threatened—the guy had obviously passed being merely attractive years ago. He looked to be around his mid-thirties, and from what she could see of him, he was insanely hot—despite the slight edge of remoteness that his features reflected.
She took another sip of her drink and contemplated him from under her lashes—she refused to openly watch him as he was watching her. He appeared to be of Hispanic heritage, or at least she thought so. His hair was dark, as were his eyes. His shoulders strained against the fabric of his button-down, emphasizing the broad muscles of his chest and arms. From his seat at the bar, he looked to be tall as well, and the muscles rippling under his shirt made her pulse race. Could she see herself waking up in his bed one morning? Oh, she could—absolutely. And the tantalizing vision was sending a wave of heat down her spine and a reminder that she needed to be careful. The man didn’t look completely sound—he was definitely watching her as if she were his for the taking—regardless of what she thought about it.
And what exactly did she want, anyway? There was no question that she was looking for something. Nothing permanent—at least not yet—but something besides her damn vibrator. Sometimes a girl just needed some human contact, you know? But geez—not him. He looked doable enough, positively, but the aura of danger that hung around him was giving her second and third thoughts about even looking in his direction again, no matter how tempted she was.